For My Wife
“It looks better if it’s blue. Regular grass is boring.” She gave me a smile.
Her front tooth was missing.
“If I give you the purple for the grass will you give me the blue?” I picked up
the purple crayon. It was the nicest one we had in our little pile, clean and
new from a fresh box of crayolas.
“Not until I’m finished.” She went back to coloring her blue grass. I sat and
watched as the blue crayon became smaller and smaller in her fingers.
“You’re done!” I shouted, grabbing for the crayon.
“Am not! Now I have to color my brother. He has to be blue also.”
“I want a turn…” I whined. I got up from my little chair and walked around to
where she sat.
“Not until I’m done. I told you that already.” She colored her brother’s face.
The crayon grew smaller still.
“You have to be done,” I said, hoping from one foot to the other. She
ignored me. Left with no other option I did the only other thing I could do.
Reaching for the crayon I tried to grab it out of her hand.
“Hey! You’re mean! It’s still my turn!” She bit down on my hand and left
marks that I would claim weeks later I could still see.
Jerking her hand away from mine she took the blue crayon and put it up her
nose. “See. Now you won’t take it. I told you it was mine!”
I crinkled my nose in disgust. I didn’t want it now. Years later I would realize
it was her that I wanted, from the very moment she stuck the blue crayon up